


Make a Love Storm for Me

by denimwrapped



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: (get it? because wings? i'll show myself out), Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Cupid Steven Lim, Fae Andrew Ilnyckyj, Injury, M/M, Matchmaking, Psychic Abilities, Ultimate Wingman Steven Lim, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denimwrapped/pseuds/denimwrapped
Summary: Steven's a cupid. His boyfriend's a faery. And his coworkers are lovers who don't know it yet.
Relationships: Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 18
Kudos: 70
Collections: Shyan Shipping Society - Valentine's Exchange





	Make a Love Storm for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title courtesy of Sam Cooke's "Cupid". 
> 
> And prompt courtesy of Bean, my recipient for this year's Valentine's Day Exchange! You said you liked Standrew and Destiel, so I turned half of Standrew into an angel. I hope you like this - and thank you for being patient. 
> 
> A huge thanks again to Bean for the prompt, to AJ for their beta work, and to the Shipping Society as a whole for making this exchange possible. Hopefully y'all enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“My life is hell.”

“Steven, not everything below cloud level is hell. We’ve been over this.”

Steven sighs. This should be a restful week for him. The company’s doing well, he’s relaxing wings-out with his boyfriend on the couch, and Ryan and Shane aren’t going to be in the office for another week. 

And yet. 

“Watch this,” he says, showing Andrew his phone. 

Ryan just sent Steven a video from D.C., where they’ve been shooting all weekend. They’re at the Lincoln Memorial, with the statue and Shane both in the frame. Ryan’s making some quip about Shane’s height, something about a “family reunion”, when Shane turns back to face the camera. And he looks into the lens - then just behind it - with a tiny, shy smile and crinkled eyes and-

“Yeah,” Steven says. “You don’t have to be a cupid to tell that those are heart-eyes.”

“No kidding.”

“I can’t catch a break.”

It’s not that Steven doesn’t like being a cupid. It’s who he is, it means he can feel human love in a way so many others would kill for. And the wings are a pretty nice perk. 

But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  _ Contrary to popular belief, _ he’d always have to say at paranatural get-togethers,  _ cupids can’t actually make people fall in love. _ All those arrows do is turn existing feelings up to eleven for a few hours, and Steven’s pretty sure that Ryan and Shane are already at like, a fourteen on the fondness scale. 

No, a cupid’s real job is to gently push people together, to set the stage and let the humans take care of the rest. It doesn’t always work out - Steven’s heard that old ‘cupids and weathermen’ joke more times than he can count. 

Well, the Boys of Ghoul have been working together for something like six years now, and both of them must be deathly allergic to love confessions. Leaving Steven stuck with all of the pining, all the overwhelming romantic tension, with none of the release. It’s exhausting. 

At this point, it feels like he’s tried everything. He had them do a Top Five episode about rom-coms, but all they did was bicker like a married couple instead of actually becoming one. He convinced Shane to write a Puppet History episode about the life of St. Valentine, but he changed into one about the St. Valentine’s Day massacre. Granted, it was because Shane knew how much Ryan loved morbid mafia stories, but still. He even took Andrew’s advice and hung mistletoe around the office during the Christmas party, and that was the  _ one night _ that Shane got sick and stayed home. 

“It’s unbelievable,” he says. “They go on dates all the time for their shows, but they can’t even peck each other on the cheek.”

Andrew doesn’t respond right away. He looks serious, digesting the words. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon, isn’t it?” he asks. 

“It is,” Steven says. Of course he knows when Valentine’s Day is - he’s a cupid, he’s got it circled and underlined on his calendar. 

“Look, Shane and Ryan have been going on dates for a long time, but they don’t see them as dates. They’re there for work, it’s all being filmed. Remember when we started doing Worth It? It didn’t feel like we were going on dates then. We only started becoming self-aware when we started going to restaurants together outside of work.”

Steven smiles. Admittedly, he might be calling the kettle black here - though in all fairness, the faefolk are notoriously hard to read. Neither Shane’s nor Ryan’s painfully human asses have that excuse. 

“So what if,” Andrew continues, a devilish smirk on his face, “they went on a date without the cameras, somewhere so obviously romantic that they couldn’t ignore or deny it?”

“You’re saying we should set them up?”

“I’m saying that I have this friend, and this friend runs a venue down in Santa Monica. They host weddings, parties, stuff like that. So we could put together a little Valentine’s Day party for Watcher.”

“I like where you’re going with this. But I don’t know if the team would want that? It’s not like it’s a federal holiday or anything.”

“Didn’t Anthony get you guys to have an Arbor Day party?”

“Oh, yeah.” Steven shudders at the memory - he’ll never get the smell of sap out of his sweater. “I take that back, they’d definitely be on board.”

“And better yet - that friend of mine? She’s a succubus. She can’t sense attraction like you can, but she sure as  _ hell _ knows how to induce it.”

Oh. Well, that’s.  _ That’s  _ an idea. 

“So what you’re saying is that we should host a romance-themed party for our friends, while getting help from a demon of seduction, in order to create an atmosphere so unambiguously romantic that they’ll have no choice but to finally break?”

Andrew nods. 

“It’s a bit… tricksy.”

“I’m a faery, babe.” Andrew sweeps his hair back for emphasis, and Steven swears he sees sparkles fly out from it. “Tricksiness is our whole M.O.”

“I’ll text Katie and start planning.”

* * *

Steven’s in the middle of a meeting with Katie and Shane when Ryan walks in through the door. 

“Sorry, I overslept,” he says. “Jet lag.”

“Happens to the best of us,” offers Shane. And he’s right - it’s been hard for Steven to ignore those bags under Shane’s eyes. 

It’s even harder for Steven to ignore the tightness in Shane’s chest, or the warmth pooling behind his cheeks. 

They’re not Steven’s own emotions - they belong to Shane, they’re trapped within the confines of his human body. Yet Steven can sense them there, a buzzing of feeling under someone else’s skin. The cupid’s sixth sense in action. It’s not quite empathy, and not as strong as proper mind-reading. It’s a shifting in the air. 

And a reminder of all the work Steven has to do. 

“So, Ryan,” Katie begins, “are you free on Valentine’s Day?”

Ryan snorts. “Smooth. You got a subtler way to ask a guy if he’s single?”

“We’re having a party,” Steven clarifies. “We’ve all been hard at work for the past month, so Andrew and I figured that we could throw ourselves a little something.”

“It’ll be fun!” says Shane. “And besides, we need a little break.” 

He pats Ryan’s shoulder, and Steven could sense the electric shock that runs through Ryan’s body from miles away. 

“Well, if the big guy’s on board, I guess I am, too.”

Steven and Katie share a knowing glance. His powers don’t let him sense non-romantic thoughts, but he can still tell what’s going through her mind. It’s not  _ just  _ Steven that’s been suffering through this song and dance for the past several years. 

He and Katie leave the meeting room together, and she honest-to-goodness  _ sighs _ when the door shuts. 

“God. Tony’s gonna win that fucking betting pool.”

“How long did he think it’d take them again?”

“‘Until the heat death of the universe’, he said. I think he was onto something.” She sighs. “You’re not in it, right?”

“I’m not.” Steven’s figured that there’s something inherently unfair in a being with his particular job betting on when a couple gets together. 

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

And, well. It’s particularly unfair when he’s actively planning to shove said couple together on a specific date. 

Actually… He could make things a little easier for himself right here. 

He couldn’t let her in on everything - the paranatural bits might give her an existential crisis, and he doesn’t know how to handle one of those - but the rest...

“Well, if you help us out, I think we can hedge our bets on Valentine’s Day.”

* * *

The venue is bigger than Steven had pictured. 

Actually, he’s pretty sure that the interior shouldn’t be able to fit within the dimensions of the exterior. Like this place is some kind of architectural TARDIS. He probably should know what the technical term for this is, but hey, that wasn’t the type of engineering he majored in. 

He and Andrew arrive early, in time to set things up and speak with the owner. Said owner is, as advertised, a succubus; a fact that is made incredibly clear after Steven reveals his wings. 

“Oh!” She says. “‘Nicky, you really weren’t kidding!”

It’s at this point when she reveals her own wings - great black things, covered in silky black feathers that could blot out the sun. 

“Haven’t busted these babies out in front of people for a while. Feels good. Anyway, the name’s Amy.”

She holds out a hand, and Steven cautiously takes it. “Amy,” he says. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks. Got it from one of Hell’s presidents.” Steven swears that there’s a glint of glee in her eyes at his discomfort. “Now, you two have gotten into a predicament of love, isn’t that right?”

“We have,” says Andrew. “And it’s taking a toll. Tell her, Steven.”

“We’ve tried everything, but they just won’t confess.”

“Mm-hm. Figures. You know that old joke about cupids and weathermen, angel boy?”

Steven sighs. “That we’re the only people who can fail half the time and still keep our jobs?”

“There ya go. Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve been seducing the humanfolk since before you were a putto and ‘Nicky was an auf, so I know what makes their little hearts thump. And if you wanna get these two lovebirds together, you’re gonna need to try harder than gentle suggestions and mistletoe. You’re gonna have to really set the  _ mood. _ You can’t just tell people that it’s Valentine’s Day and expect them to start acting all lovey-dovey. You gotta make them  _ feel _ it. Observe.” 

She claps twice, and the lights go out. For a moment the room is plunged into darkness - and in the moment after that, they’re bathed in a dim red glow. 

Amy lowers a needle onto a record, and a slow jazz track crackles to life. 

“It’s all about the atmosphere,  _ mon frere.” _

A hand gently grabs Steven’s. 

“She knows her stuff,” says Andrew. “I think we have a real shot.”

And as the dulcet tones swirl around them in the crimson room, Steven starts to agree. Maybe this time, they can actually make a diff-

Steven’s phone buzzes. Upon checking he’s greeted with texts from Ryan. Texts about Shane, of course. Because even when they’re out of range of Steven’s cupid senses, they find a way to send their feelings down the wire. 

**Ryan  
** **** Shane won’t stop humming some obscure fuckin indie song  
He’ll be the death of me, Steven

Steven sighs. There really is no escape.  _ Why don’t you just tell Shane that?  _ He texts back. 

**Ryan  
** Well no  
What if I do that, and he stops? 

No escape at all. 

* * *

The sun’s almost setting by the time the rest of the team arrives. 

Everyone takes their seats at their tables, with Ryan and Shane sitting together, because  _ of course _ . Funnily enough, they end up sitting almost alone, with only Steven and Andrew to keep them company - Steven figures that Katie’s spilled some beans, and everyone else is aware of the plan to some degree. 

It doesn’t take long for Amy to casually pull him and Andrew aside, taking them to the unoccupied bar. She eyes the crowd, pointing at Ryan and Shane. Ryan’s going off about something or other - from this distance, they can’t overhear - and Shane’s staring, head resting on his head, smiling like Ryan’s just hung the moon and stars. 

“Those are your lovebirds?” she asks. 

“Yep.”

“God. They’re disgusting.”

“You’re telling me.” Even from this distance, Steven can feel ripples in the air, a buzzing coming from under Ryan and Shane’s skin. Unadulterated affection, barely being constrained. 

“If they aren’t eating each other’s faces in five minutes, we drop the lights.”

It’s less painful to look at the sun than at the ghoulboys right now, so Steven does just that. In the middle of a wall is a great glass door, behind which the sun is steadily approaching the horizon. It’s a beautiful sight. 

A lightbulb goes off above Steven’s head. 

“Wait,” says Steven, motioning Amy to come closer. “I have an idea. See the sliding door, with the sunset behind it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what’s more romantic than a sunset?”

“A few things, actually. But that’s not a bad idea - using nature to set the mood. How’re you gonna pull that off, though?”

Steven whispers his plan to Amy - she’s not as convinced as he’d hoped, but she isn’t passive-aggressively insulting his skills, which is better than he’d feared. 

“Knock yourself out,” she says. 

So Steven siddles on over to the sliding balcony door, and pulls it open. A chill blows through the venue, and he shudders - but it’s worth it for the view. 

“Sure is a beautiful sunset!” He half-shouts. “Would be even better if people watched it with me!”

It’s a slow process, but one by one, people get the hint, walking outside and taking in the orange sky. First Katie, then Brittney, then Josh, and down the line they go. All they have to do is wait for Ryan and Shane to step out, then corral everybody but Ryan and Shane back inside, and the lovebirds will have a beautiful sunset all to themselves. It’ll be quiet yet majestic, the archetypical beautiful moment, and surely it’ll finally make them crack. 

A minute goes by, the sun getting ever lower in the evening sky. 

The ghoulboys stay put. 

Another few minutes. Conversations get interrupted by shivers - people are starting to get cold. The L.A. winter isn’t frigid, but it’s not immune from wind chill. 

Neither Ryan nor Shane budge an inch. Have they even noticed that the party left the room? 

As the sun finally vanishes below the horizon, everyone heads back inside. Steven slides the door shut again, sighing in disappointment. In hindsight, this wasn’t his best plan. Too many moving parts. But still - why didn’t either of the ghoulboys follow them outside? 

As he walks by their table, he gets his answer. 

“I’m telling you, those first ten minutes are cinema at its finest.”

“You can’t judge a movie based on its first ten minutes, Ryan!”

Movie banter. Of course. They got caught up in their own little world, that Venn Diagram of their interests with a chunky, chunky middle, and couldn’t be arsed to leave it. 

This is going to be a challenge. 

* * *

“Okay. New plan. By which I mean, Amy’s old plan.”

Amy shrugs. “Hey, you gave it the college try. I’ve seen cupids do dumber things to try and get people together.”

“How dumb?”

“Let’s just say that I know why they  _ really _ killed JFK.”

As Steven tries to process whatever the fuck that means, Amy claps. The curtains shut, the lights go out, and the smooth sound of jazz makes itself at home. 

As the red lights fade in, Steven makes his way back to Ryan and Shane’s table. 

“Steven!” They both say at once. 

“Where do you keep going off to?”

“Oh. Uh- just talking to the owner. She’s a friend of Andrew’s.” It’s only a lie of omission. “What have you been doing? You haven’t spent much time hanging out with the team.”

“I’ve been busy showing Shane the light. See, the big guy brought up that he never saw _Paddington 2-”_

“I meant to! I just never got around to it.”

“Excuses. Weak excuses. Anyway, he clearly does not respect the furry bundle of life lessons and joy that is Paddington Bear as much as he should. Which is odd, considering how he’s such a big fan of actual, murderous bears-”

“Oh my god. Ryan-”

“I just find it strange.”

“Ryan, your fears are valid. And they’re wrong.”

Steven shakes his head as the two of them fall deeper into their back-and-forth, waves of adoration flowing from their mouths with every word. But it’s masked behind insults, behind banter; a partial release of tension where the stakes are low. 

Steven, of course, can see through those masks easily whether he wants to or not - for humans, it’s hard, but not impossible. Except, evidently, for these two. He wonders for a moment if one’s mask doesn’t just keep their emotions in, but keeps one from seeing the emotions of someone else when the other’s facade briefly slips. 

Andrew comes by, dropping a rose into the vase at the center of the table. 

“Amy says they’ll help,” he whispers. “Any progress?”

Steven shakes his head, and Andrew moves onto the next table. 

From time to time, Steven checks his watch - he swears that time’s passing slower than usual. He’s heard it said that time flies when you’re in love, but he’s not in love himself so much as feeling the reverberations of other people’s love at point-blank range. 

He checks his watch one last time. It’s well into the night, and neither ghoulboy seems close to confessing. 

“There must be something we’re missing,” he says when he meets back up with Andrew and Amy. 

“More roses?” asks Andrew. “Because I can make more roses.” He places his hand on a potted rose bush, using his powers to start growing new blooms. 

“No, I- thank you, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“If all else fails,” says Amy, “you can always put aphrodisiacs in their drinks.”

“NO!”

“Alright. It’s on the table.”

“Hold on,” says Andrew. “There is something we haven’t tried. You’re going to hate this, but-”

“Nope.” Steven already knows where this is going. “For the last time, we can’t use my bow, not for this.”

“Well, if you want them to get impulsive, that’s how you do it.”

“No, I- I can’t. They’re my friends. I can suggest things, guide them, but I can’t get in their heads like that.”

Andrew mulls it over. 

“Let me do it, then.”

“What?”

“Just- manifest your bow and arrows, let me borrow them for a minute, and I’ll shoot them for you.”

“No! We’re not doing that. Remember what happened the last time you used my bow?”

“That bar fight had nothing to do with me and you know it.”

“Andrew.”

“Look, you want them to get together. The arrows amplify emotions. You know better than I do how badly those two want to let it all out. There’s not much room for unforeseen variables here, and it might fix everything in one fell swoop. Just- let me have one shot at it.”

It doesn’t exactly align with Steven’s principles. But then again, neither does letting Ryan and Shane linger in a love limbo for the rest of their lives - with Steven there to feel that tension every step of the way. 

He sighs, surrendering. This better not end in disaster. 

Steven waves a hand, pulling his bow from thin air and manifesting a quiver of golden arrows strapped to his waist. He pulls a single arrow out, giving it to Andrew along with the bow. 

“You sure you can hit them from this far?”

“Steven.” Andrew’s voice drops an octave, and Steven swears that the air around him stills to heighten the gravitas. “I am a creature of the forest. My ancestors were hunters, fighting the raw forces of nature for every scrap of food they had, each loose of an arrow meaning the difference between life and death. That hunting blood is in me.” His voice goes back to normal to add “Besides, these guys are like, literally sitting ducks. I’ve got this.”

With that, Andrew nocks the arrow, aims it square at Shane’s broad torso, and releases. 

And his aim is true - Steven sees the arrow slice clean through the air and straight towards its target, almost instantly reaching it- 

And landing in TJ, who’d walked in front of Shane at exactly the wrong moment. 

“Oh, fuck.”

Andrew and Steven share a look that says  _ we done fucked up,  _ and Andrew quietly passes the bow back to its owner. 

“Okay,” he says. “That could have gone better.” And after a pause that must last for ten hours, he adds “This won’t have any unforeseen consequences, will it?”

Steven shrugs frantically. “We- we should check on him.”

“Agreed.”

The two of them pull themselves away from their hiding spot, shuffling back onto the dance floor and greeting TJ. 

“Hey,” Steven starts. “TJ, Teej, my man. How- how are you, uh- feeling tonight?”

TJ responds with a stare. Worryingly, it’s not the casual death glare that Steven’s gotten used to. No, there are  _ emotions _ going on behind that man’s eyes, and Steven’s nerves fray just thinking about it. They fucked up. They  _ really _ fucked up. Even the air around TJ feels different now. What on this plane of existence did they do to this man-

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I love all of you. I love and respect you so fucking much. Oh my god, why didn’t I say this ages ago?” TJ’s tearing up now, his lips quivering like he’s holding in a sob. “Come here.”

He pulls Steven into a bear hug, nearly squeezing the man’s wings out of their sockets, before pulling Andrew in too. Steven’s putting the pieces together - they’d amplified TJ’s admiration for his colleagues to the point where he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and now they’re paying the price. 

“Look at us. Look at everything we’ve done together. We made a fucking company, guys! We did it! God, I love you guys to the moon and back. Everybody! Everybody, get in here!”

Any hope of Steven or Andrew squirming free is quashed when the rest of the team joins the group hug. Over the heads of the other members, the two of them share a look. 

_ Could have gone worse. _

* * *

Once TJ’s calmed down a tad, Amy pulls Steven and Andrew aside. Steven can see the annoyance under her eyes. 

“Alright, you two have had your turns. Now it’s mine. This time, we’re changing the mood in a different direction.”

She pushes the needle down the record, switching the song from sultry jazz to something more upbeat. 

“We’ve gotta get these people up on their feet,” she explains, “up and on the dance floor. Get their blood flowing and bodies close.”

And sure enough, people start leaving their tables, compelled by a quick tempo that all but demands that you dance along with it. 

“That means you two boys, too! C’mon, show ‘em how it’s done!”

Well, Steven doesn’t need to be told twice. 

It’s easy to let himself loosen up on the dance floor. To tap his feet to the beat, to pull his friends into dramatic twirls, to live in the moment. 

Until Ryan and Shane walk in. 

The music shifts then - gets slower. Upbeat drums give way to measured piano notes, and Steven can already tell what Amy’s playing at. 

It’s a slow dance.  _ Son of a gun _ , she’s playing the slow dance card. It’s simple, it’s cliche, it- it might just work. 

“Hey, Steven.” 

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see Andrew extending a hand. 

“May I have this dance?”

Steven smiles, and falls into his boyfriend with ease. 

It’s not the same as when they dance at home. Their friends and colleagues are keeping them company, their more paranatural features can’t be let loose. 

But even with his wings tucked away, Steven feels like he could soar. 

Andrew doesn’t love much differently than humans. The feelings are harder to spot, hidden under the brambles and vines that obscure fae minds. But when they’re pressed together, Steven can feel the gentle buzzing of requited love under his skin. 

It’s a little undercut by the ripples of pining coming from around the two of them, though. 

Ryan and Shane keep getting bounced from person to person, each member of the team working in tandem to get the boys together. Shane goes from Katie to Stephen, Ryan from Stephen to Tony, until-

There’s a tiny seismic shift as Ryan and Shane are all but thrown together. 

Steven watches over Andrew’s shoulder as the ghoulboys figure out what to do with themselves. Their hands flit awkwardly over each other’s bodies - who should hold where on whom? - until they settle in place. Ryan’s got both hands on Shane’s shoulders; Shane’s got one resting cautiously at Ryan’s waist. They move slowly. Stiffly. Without certainty. 

The tension is a tripwire, ready to snap at every moment. It screams in Steven’s head, pulls the air into a deafening standstill, begs to be released in a moment of truth- 

Ryan laughs. He says something Steven can’t overhear, and Shane laughs, too. They come undone, their stiffness fades, and they fall into casualness again. The dance becomes yet another starting point for jokes. 

The tension is loosened for them, but Steven can still feel the things they left unsaid. 

* * *

“Have you considered that they’re some kind of long-lost deities of frustration? Or projections created by some trickster god? Because I’m starting to think this is how Loki’s paying me back.”

“They’re human, Amy. I’d feel it if they weren’t.”

“How do you stand it? I mean, I’m getting irritated just watching these clowns dance around each other - you gotta feel all this shit in your own bones. Don’t they drive you insane?”

“They do.”

She sighs. “Then why’d you start a company with them?”

“Because they’re my friends. Even before they started falling for each other, I got along with both of them. I- I’ve gone through a lot since I moved to L.A. And they’ve been there for me at every step of the way. Shane always checked in on me when life got stressful. Ryan helped me get through a breakup. They frustrate me sometimes, but- I don’t know what I’d do without them, so. Here I am.”

“Son of a bitch, you love these dorks.”

“No, I- actually, yeah. I do.”

It’s not the type of love that his job centers around, but it’s love nonetheless. 

Well. Speaking of his job. 

“You got any new ideas?”

A determined look crosses Amy’s face. 

“There’s only one thing we haven’t tried. We’re gonna have to break out the  _ big _ guns.” 

Amy leads them to a dark corner of the venue, pulling aside dusty red curtains. 

Behind them is a great hole in the wall, and a dip in the floor. There’s a tiny boat floating in shallow water, big enough to fit just two, maybe three people. Amy snaps her fingers once, then twice, then a few times with frustration, and the sound of running water starts up. Steven notices a sign above them that reads  _ TUNNEL OF LOVE.  _

“I don’t use this very often - rides like these fell outta human fashion a while ago. But if we want to give those lovebirds a chance, this is our best bet.”

“It doesn’t look safe,” says Steven. 

“Of course it’s safe. This thing’s got safety enchantments up the wazoo!” She slaps the frame for emphasis, only flinching a bit at the sound of squeaking metal. “It’s just old, is all.”

“It looks haunted. Do you think-”

Another lightbulb moment strikes Steven, and this time he doesn’t even bother explaining it, just siddles right on over to Idiots #1 and #2. 

“Hey, Ryan. Shane. Uh- I know you guys aren’t in your ghost-hunting mode.”

“What makes you think that, Stevie boy?”

“Ryan’s never  _ not _ ghost-hunting. Every moment he’s awake, his little ghost antenna’s alert and ready. Always on the lookout for falling toothpaste.”

“Shut up, Shane.” The sheer unadulterated fondness in Ryan’s voice is enough to melt a man’s heart. And make said man want to puke. God, they’re gross. 

“I’m asking because-” Steven leans in like he’s sharing a precious secret- “I think this place might be a little bit haunted.”

“Oh?” They both say. 

Steven leads them to the Tunnel of Love, hyping up the supposedly haunted nature of it along the way. “Nobody’s been in it in years,” he says. “Makes you wonder just how intense the activity is.” 

“Maybe! Or maybe - hear me out here - it’s just not the fifties anymore.”

“Unbelievable. Steven’s being thoughtful and you’re still shoving your giant skeptical head in the sand.”

“And yours is hovering in the clouds.”

“Bold words coming from a human skyscraper.”

“Guys,” Steven interrupts. “Just get in the boat.”

And they do. Amy lets the boat loose, sending the ghoulboys into the tunnel. 

“And now,” she says, “we wait.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes, more or less.”

Oh boy. Ten minutes of sitting here and hoping,  _ praying _ for the best. All while Ryan and Shane are hidden in the dark. Anything could be happening - they could be holding hands, making out, or- well, again,  _ anything. _ It’s entirely possible that they’re sitting there in silence, waiting for ghosts, that this was worse than pointless and-

“I’m going in.”

“You what? Steven, the whole point of the Tunnel of Love is that it’s  _ private.” _

“It’s okay. I- I’m a cupid. We have our ways. Be back in ten!”

With that, Steven slips into the tunnel, whipping out his wings and turning himself invisible. 

The tunnel’s dark and winding, but there’s only one path to follow. So he soars above the water until he spots the back of a little boat, and two heads poking above it. 

Steven lands as delicately as he can. Still, his weight shifts the boat’s balance, and Ryan notices. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“What?”

“Something just rocked the boat.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been feeling something rock the boat this whole time, actually. It’s called water.”

“Fuck you, dude. Steven was right, something’s weird about this place. I’m not a fan.”

“I thought you liked haunted attractions.”

“I do! But this isn’t one of those. It’s an attraction that happens to be haunted; there’s a difference.”

“Is there, Ry?”

“Yes. This wasn’t made to scare people. It was made for, I dunno, horny teenagers in the Victorian era. Don’t fact-check me on the specifics, but you get the point.” 

“I guess. Hey, you could say that this is an attraction… for attraction!”

Aha! An opening. The topic of love has been brought up. It’s quiet. And it’s dark, with the only lights being used to illuminate big pink hearts and scenes of famous lovers throughout history. Ryan and Shane are sitting close - and the hint of fear from the supposed haunting might just push them closer. It’s a perfect storm, and Steven can see the light at the end of the-

“Wouldn’t it be fucked up,” Ryan says, “if you died in one of these things?”

_ What.  _

“It would be. Are you implying that someone  _ did _ die in this particular tunnel of love?”

“Could be. Of all the dark rides I’ve been on, this one seems the most murder-friendly. It’s uncanny.”

“I think it’s nice. Look, it’s got all kinds of fun lil’ scenes on the walls. Look, see those little cupids flying around with their little bows?”

Steven, for his part, does look. It’s a horribly inaccurate depiction - actual cupids would never let a putto play with weapons. That’s just irresponsible. 

“I guess it’s cute,” says Ryan. “Man. Can you imagine those faces staring you down as you drown in the water?”

Shane wheezes, then mimes out a scene where he’s drowning, which gets Ryan to join in the wheezefest, and Steven’s heart sinks far below the shallow water. 

This was their last resort, and it- it didn’t work. All their effort combined can’t conquer Midwestern emotional constipation, or morbidness so strong you could build a career off it. 

No fucking escape indeed. 

Discouraged, Steven slips off the boat. He flies back to the literal light at the end of the tunnel, followed by confused shouting and a deafening hum of affection. 

* * *

“Damn,” says Amy. “Maybe they are a hopeless case.”

“They’ve still got a few minutes left in there,” says Andrew. “Things might turn around.”

“They won’t. Trust me, they’re too busy joking around.”

Amy slides Steven a drink, and for once, he takes it and downs it. Sue him. After the night - nay, the career - he’s had, he deserves one. 

“It’s so weird,” he says. “It’s like whenever the opportunity for romance is put in front of them, they recoil from it. They’ll retreat into inane conversations and shut the world out. I don’t get it.”

“I guess talking about inane shit can be a form of expressing love.”

“But they clearly want something more, and they’re not-” Steven sighs. “I don’t get it. Dates and mistletoe and all the romantic cues in the world can’t budge them an inch. I was taught to push people together, but they need a miracle. And I’m not that kind of angel.”

“Steven.”

Andrew’s voice has gone soft. 

“It’s okay if this doesn’t work out. You tried your best. Hell, all three of us tried our best. And if three paranatural people with backgrounds in matchmaking, seduction, and trickery can’t get those two to fess up, you can’t feel guilty about not doing it by yourself.” 

He takes Steven’s hand. 

“Besides, you’re still giving them a nice experience. It’s a party where they and all their friends can unwind for a day. What’s the worst that could come from that?”

Suddenly, a screeching sound comes from their side, and their heads whip around to see Shane standing alone, watching in horror as the boat rushes backwards into the tunnel. 

With a screaming Ryan inside. 

* * *

The one thing worse than the floor-cleaner smell and the faint beeping noises of the hospital, is the sound of Shane’s foot tapping nervously beside him. For once, he can barely focus on the roaring waves of Shane’s worried devotion. And he can’t even celebrate that. 

“The good news,” the nurse says, “is that he only has a concussion. We can send him home in the morning, but he’ll need to take it easy for a few weeks. That means no strenuous activity, physical or mental. Now, you said you lot were coworkers of his?”

“He, Shane and I run a company together, yes.”

“Well, you two will have to pick up his slack for a while. The more he’s allowed to rest, the easier his recovery will be.” 

With that, the nurse walks away. After a moment, Shane follows. 

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he mumbles. “Fresh air.”

Steven nods, wishing him well. It isn’t nearly enough to soothe the guilt weighing heavy in his chest. 

“Amy texted back,” says Andrew. “She found the spell that broke and recast it. So that’s good.”

There’s nothing Steven can say to that. 

“Hey. It’s not your fault.”

“It is.”

“Even if you hadn’t rocked the boat, that spell probably would have broken-”

“That’s not it. This whole party only happened because of me. And don’t- don’t say it was your idea, because if I hadn’t been so focused on getting them together, you wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place.”

“Steven, they were hurting you.”

“Were they? Or was I- was I so obsessed with doing my job that I couldn’t even stop when things got dangerous? Ryan’s only hurt because I wanted work to be a bit less stressful, because I- I wanted to be a good cupid more than a good friend."

“You wanted to help him. You wanted to help both of them, because you're a good friend, and because that’s what you do, Steven. You always try to help people. And yeah, sometimes you fuck up. That’s just- well, I don’t want to say ‘that’s only human’, but. When in Rome, you do as the humans do.”

Steven snorts. “We’re literally in L.A., babe. The city of angels.”

“You know what I meant. Hey, look who’s avoiding serious stuff with jokes now?”

“Andrew!”

It’s a moment of levity in a shitty situation. Honestly, he wishes that the local experts in inappropriate levity were with him for it. 

“I think I know what to do now,” he says. “I’m gonna try and fix this. I’m not exactly trained for healing, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

Andrew nods, pulls Steven in for a brief kiss, and wishes him good luck. 

Steven slips into the room, turning invisible just before entering Ryan’s line of sight. Right now it looks like Ryan is sleeping. Eyes closed, not moving, lying down on a hospital bed. Steven can’t blame him - the poor man had his brain bounce around his skull with just a few minutes to midnight. It’d be hard for any human to stay conscious after that. 

Every step Steven takes is measured, cautious. Quiet. 

Ryan shifts in the bed, his eyes cracking open - and staring Steven dead in the eyes. Steven freezes. He double-checks his body - yep, still invisible. 

After a long moment, Ryan groans, his gaze falling to the ceiling. He’s awake, but if the sounds coming out of him are anything to go by, he doesn’t want to be. 

Steven raises a hand to Ryan’s temple, hovering it just above the skin. He concentrates, puts all his focus on soothing the bruises on Ryan’s head. He doesn’t know if it’s working, but he swears that Ryan relaxes ever so slightly-

“Ryan?”

The door opens - it’s Shane. 

Steven yanks his hand away, backing up. He’s still invisible, and able to move out of the way before Shane runs into his corporeal body. 

“Hey, man.” Ryan’s voice is groggy. “Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”

“You doing okay?”

“I’m doing better. My head doesn’t feel like it was used as a soccer ball anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah. It’s too bad I didn’t have your fuckin’ godzilla legs. Could’ve just walked off that boat with a leisurely stride.”

“Could’ve, yeah,” Shane repeats. There’s no emotion in his voice.

“Are  _ you _ okay, dude?”

“What? Yeah, of course I’m okay. Just, uh. For once, a haunted location really did scare the shit out of me.”

“Oh my god. This is what makes you believe?”

“I’m talking about  _ you _ , you jacka-” Shane's voice catches on the last word. 

“C’mon. Finish that sentence.”

No response. 

“Shane?”

There’s a beat. Shane sniffs.

“I was so scared, Ry.”

He puts a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, but that clearly isn’t enough. So he collapses. His head hides in the crook of Ryan’s neck, his arms pull Ryan up and hold him, firm but gentle. 

Steven can’t think straight. The sheer weight of emotion emanating from these two is suffocating. It’s buzzing louder than a jet, heavier than the water in an ocean trench. 

“It’s okay, big guy. I’m here. We’re here. And here is a shitty hospital room where everything smells like iodine, but at least we’re in it together.”

The sound that comes out of Shane is somewhere between a snort, a sob, and a sniff. 

The tension lingers, tight in everyone’s chests like twine, and it won’t be released anytime soon. If they didn’t snap at the party, it’s not happening here. There are no crimson lights. The only sounds are stifled sobs and distant beeping. The air stinks of death and detergent. 

Steven watches, waiting patiently for someone to crack a joke, make some noise, so that he can slip out of the room and head home. Or maybe mope in a tree, he hasn’t decided. Andrew would be fine with either. 

“Hey, you big dork. Why are you looking at me like-”

Ryan’s cut off. Because- 

Because!-

They’re kissing. They’re. 

Actually. 

Fucking. 

_ Kissing.  _

It’s over almost as soon as it begins, but there’s no going back. The love in the air goes from roaring to motionless in a fraction of a second. It stills. Like it’s afraid. 

“Dude,” says Ryan. 

“I- I’m sorry, I-”

“No. Do that again.”

Ryan pulls Shane down, bringing their lips together. 

And even if they’re holding their breath, Steven’s-

Steven can breathe. Really breathe. The waves of unrequited love aren’t holding him down. No. This is new. And it’s lifting him up. 

He can feel it in his wings. He’s lighter than air, he’s bubbly inside, he’s- he’s free. The tripwire’s been tripped. 

Holy shit. 

Steven slips out of the room as quietly as possible before popping back into visibility. 

“Did it work?” asked Andrew. 

He can’t hold it in any longer. 

He hoists Andrew off the chair, pulling him into a tight hug. Relieved giggles pour out of him as his wings burst free, and he muffles his excitement in the crook of Andrew’s neck. 

“Uh- babe? What hap-” Andrew cuts himself off. “Wait. No fucking way.”

“Yes way!”

“They did it?” Andrew asks, and Steven nods, and suddenly Andrew’s smile has grown wide to match. 

“Holy shit!” 

“I know!”

They hug each other tightly, spinning in the empty hall, and Steven’s wings lift the both of them up a foot into the air. He’s swimming on waves of relief, of released tension, of finally-requited love. Nothing in the world could bring him down, not with his job finally complete-

“Hey guys, good news!” 

Steven freezes, head whipping around at the sound of Ryan’s voice. Shane’s got an arm around Ryan’s shoulder, and Steven catches a glimpse of wide smiles on both their faces that quickly fall in shock. 

He and Andrew are still hovering in midair. Wings outstretched for the world to see. 

“Um.”

Well. Looks like Steven has a confession of his own to make. 


End file.
